


Impulse is a scary thing

by The_Ol_Razzle_Dazzle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Harry Potter is a Horcrux, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Romance, Sane Voldemort, Sort Of, Stockholm Syndrome, Valentine's Day, and a captive, but not really, kinda ooc Voldemort, this started bitter but got soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 23:11:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13798314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Ol_Razzle_Dazzle/pseuds/The_Ol_Razzle_Dazzle
Summary: "You are a fool Harry Potter, you care for a man who destroyed you and feel pain for a man whose only joy is to spread this pain around" said a little voice on the back of his head but Harry ignored it. He had always been a fool. Why would that change now?or how the first signs of Stockholm Syndrome started to appear.





	Impulse is a scary thing

_**I hate this feeling.** _

****

**_‘’Like I’m here, but I am not. Like someone cares. But they don’t. Like I belong somewhere else, anywhere but here.’’_ **

_How depressing_. He thought.

 _Just like everything in this room, including yourself,_ his inner voice added despite his countless efforts to silence it since he first sat on this chair.

Harry shut the book closed and let it fall from his hands on his lap, dismissing it completely. He wasn’t even sure why he picked that specific book from the pile that was left for him. A book about the nature of love of all things. What a joke. It wasn’t his style and he was never a fan of reading in his spare time anyways. Reading for completing his assignments was tedious enough, no need to spent extra time on doing so with books irrelevant to his studies.

His stare dropped back to the book that was now laying on his lap. He raised a hand as an attempt to open it again but his hand quickly fell to his side. It would just be a waste. He had to spent his time wisely and not wasting time on books he didn’t even enjoy reading.

_I should probably get on with my history and transfiguration essays…though…I hardly enjoy reading for these too. But I guess I have to. Or Hermione will have me stay up to complete them just before due time is over._

The crackling sounds coming from the fireplace in front of him pulled him away from his thoughts, and pushed him into the fake comfort the fire radiated on the otherwise dark room. Thoughts of doing any sort of homework forgotten, he started playing around with the golden chain of the locket around his neck. He admired the delicate "S" that decorated the locket for a while, before letting it drop back against his chest.

He hadn’t noticed how warm the room had gotten since he first got there. It was like someone had placed twelve heating spells on him. He slowly removed the heavy blanket that had been left for him, and let it loosely fall on the luxurious looking carpet that decorated the marble floor.

Green eyes focused again on the fireplace in front of them. Bright red flames were being reflected upon them, making them almost change their color from bright green to bloody red. Harry slowly drifted his stare from the burning flames to the book that he had been trying to get himself lost into, to get rid of his boredom but to no avail. Maybe the words of this text hit too close to home for him, that made it close to impossible to enjoy it. Maybe it was the notes that **he** left in there. Where he knew that only Harry would be able to see them.

_What if I threw it in the fire?_

The thought left him as soon as he got it. He couldn’t do that. Well he could but... What would the point be? It would be just another reason for **him** to get mad. To say that Harry was just being ungrateful for not accepting **his** gifts, as always. Yet again, **he** wouldn’t be the only one upset over something like this. He could almost picture the horror in Hermione’s face if he told her the crime he had committed.

_“Harry how could you do that? This was one of the best ‘'selected by the readers’’ books! Surely you must have had something else to do to fight your boredom before you turned into an arsonist.”_

Harry shook his head, a fond smile forming on his chapped from the cold lips at the thought of his friend’s words. She definitely would give him a good scolding about it but he seriously doubted she would stay mad at him for it. She never did stay mad at him for too long.

 Ron’s freckled face came in mind. Now, he wouldn’t mind if Harry burned that book. He wouldn’t mind if Harry burned down the entire Hogwarts library. Harry was sure Ron would gladly join him if he was there. He could almost hear his friend’s giggles as he described to him the process of tearing apart and burning up the whole pile of books that were left for him as a gift. He could picture the laugh lines that would form around his friend’s face and the shade of red he would turn into after laughing too hard at their dump actions. All that while Hermione would be yelling at both of them for not taking books seriously and breaking school regulations, but secretly laughing alongside them.

The picture of the three of them  sitting in their favorite spot in the cozy Gryffindor common room ,laughing and talking , made Harry’s stomach twist with sadness and regret. He shouldn’t be thinking about times like these. Not when he was alone in this room. Not when he was imprisoned in this house that he detested. It made him feel even more dejected than he already felt.

_You are going to see them soon and pretend this night never happened. Just a few hours more. In a few hours none of this will matter._

He grabbed the locket again and started playing with it. It didn’t do anything to calm his nerves or distract him from reality. He suddenly felt the need to move around the room. He jumped off his seat, ignoring the muffled thud noise the book hitting the carpet made and started walking around the room. It wasn’t a particularly spacious room despite its luxury, and Harry had been visiting it long enough to know every corner of it like the back of his hand.

Harry could describe the decorations on the small wooden library that stood just beside the sole window of this place better than he could describe how to make a babbling beverage. He could tell you with every detail the way the fireplace would light up every night from an unknown force and how despite the small chandelier being open, the room always remained dark at night. He could even tell you the names of each portrait that hang on the dark emerald walls of the room, portraits that were inexplicably empty every time Harry was there. Though he could swear he could hear talking whenever his back was turned towards them.

He stopped walking around as soon as he reached the tall window with the heavy dark green curtains that blocked any sort of light source from the outside. This room sure was small, especially for someone who couldn’t contain himself, the four walls making him feel even more trapped than he actually was. The fireplace was on the other side of the room, making the spot where Harry stood, the darkest. He wanted to get out, get away if possible. But he knew that wouldn’t happen.

 _I can go to the bedroom next door or even the bathroom and take a relaxing shower..._ he thought and sent a quick glance at the brown door on his left that led to the side rooms they had prepared for him.

“I’m not tired… besides the bedroom is even less spacious than this room and you took a shower yesterday.” he mumbled to himself and turned his attention to the closed curtains.

_I’m going to suffocate if this keeps up._

With a quick sudden move, he had pushed the curtains apart, revealing the windows frame and showing Harry a small fragment of the outside world. The sun had already left from his rightful place on the sky, dipping the world into darkness. Despite the darkness of the sky, Harry could make out the light rain drops that fell from the sky. Some of them hit the window, leaving behind wet trails for Harry to follow with his eyes.

He wasn’t a big fun of the rain. Training for Quidditch while it rained was always a pain, visibility was worse than usual, their clothes always ended up with wet mud all over them and Angelina was more prone to get irritated than usual. So he wouldn’t call the whole experience enjoyable no matter how much he loved Quidditch. But even if he didn’t enjoy rain much, right now it felt like the perfect way to distract himself from the reality he was in. The soft noise of the drops hitting the window along with the way the wind managed to pass through the smalls cracks, creating a melody that made Harry get lost in thought.

His mind traveled from fantasies of him flying through the air with his Firebolt, back to the school and the friends he tried to keep away from times like these. He wondered how everyone was doing. It was the weekend and he knew that Ron and Hermione wouldn’t lose the chance to go to Hogsmeade and spent their day there. The image of the two of them sitting at a table in the Three Broomsticks, drinking from their butterbeer sent a sting to his heart making him wish he could be there with them.

 _But you must stay here, you can’t do anything else, if you do you’ll suffer_. Said a small voice inside, at the back of his head.

 _I’m already suffering as it is_ , was Harry’s response, his stare now frozen on his reflection in the window. The voice paid no mind to his answer and continued.

 _Its Valentine’s Day today, you should be thankful that you are locked in here._ The voice sounded so much like his own, but why would his own self taunt him like that _._

_Valentine’s Day? That explains the theme of the books I was given…but not why he got them for me._

He had almost forgotten about Valentine’s Day. It wasn’t a holiday he celebrated so it was normal that he would forget. He never had a Valentine and with how things seemed to be going for him, he would never get one. But why would **he** care to remind him of the day today. He wondered if Ron and Hermione had spent the day together.

 _None of your friends would want you around on this special day._ He could almost hear the sneer of the disembodied voice.

 _That’s a lie. Shut up._ He couldn’t keep having conversations like these, it was getting so exhausting. Just keep looking outside. Look at the rain fall. Imagine yourself flying through the clouds chasing the gold ball of victory and freedom. His gaze fell from the sky and looked down at the gardens that surrounded the manor he was in. They were exquisite but due to his poor he couldn't admire them as much as he'd liked to.

 _But it’s the truth. All your loved ones have someone special to celebrate today. What do you have? A pile of books that you can’t even bring yourself to read cause their words sting you to death, and two unfinished essays_.

Harry closed his eyes. The sight of the dark sky and large gardens getting replaced with an image of his best friends holding hands and laughing while sitting at one of those gaudy tables in Madam’s Puddifoots Tea Shop. He was happy for them but at the same time wanted to hex them for looking so damn happy. The image changed again this time showing Neville and Luna sitting together, talking, their mouths full of sugary treats. He would kill to have a piece of them right now. The image quickly changed for the third time to Ginny and another boy that Harry didn’t recognize, kissing while rose petals were being softly thrown at them by tiny cupids. Harry wished for the rose petals to turn into stones as soon as they reached the unknown boy.

Finally the image turned into him and Cho and their disastrous date from last year. He re-opened his eyes afraid of reliving the horror and embarrassment of that day.

It was true he didn’t have anyone special to spent Valentine’s with. The reason why was actually quite simple.

_His name._

If he wasn’t Harry Potter he wouldn’t be locked in this room. If he wasn’t Harry Potter he wouldn’t have to worry about people getting too close to him. If he wasn’t Harry Potter he wouldn’t have to worry about them getting hurt.

 If he wasn’t who he was, he wouldn’t be so alone.

His head was still spinning with images of his friends having a grand time without him when his feet moved on their own away from the window where the rain fell on now violently and close to the fire. Harry stood there, staring at the fire waiting for his head to calm down and his inner thoughts to fall into place.

As soon as he was capable of thinking again he looked around his feet, searching for the book that should be laying on the floor. He spotted it near the chair he was previously sitting on, picked it up and opened it at a random page, his eyes scanning the words.

**_‘’ I know that I don’t own you and perhaps I’ll never will, so my anger when you are with him, I have no right to feel.’’_ **

He shut the book closed. Not even bothering reading the rest of that sentence. Flashes of red hair flying through the wind, warm smiles and bright brown eyes looking at him with concern came into his mind before he could manage to block them out.

 _I’m burning it._ His stare fell on the rest of the pile of books that were lined on top of the small wooden desk.

_All of them._

He grabbed the pile and sat comfortably on his favourite chair, pulling it closer to the fire. He took the first book of the pile, read the title and threw it into the fireplace. The flames surrounded it and slowly set it on fire, making its pages melt and its white hard cover turn to brown.

Harry’s lips were pulled into a self-satisfied smirk as he watched the book get lost in the flames. He repeated the action, tearing pages from each book before throwing it in along with them. With each book page he ripped he imagined it being that boy’s face. He wouldn’t even spare a second glance at them, wanting to get rid of this gift as soon as possible. Until he reached to the last book. He had left it for last. It was written in a way to open up all his wound and tear him apart. It hurt him.

Just like **he** would have wanted it to hurt him.

He pulled himself from the comfortable chair and seated himself on the carpet. He was so close to the fire now that the heat of the flames burned up his cheeks. He took the book in his hands and with a fluid movement threw it into its fiery death.

The sounds of paper slowly burning made him smile and rest his head on his knees, trying to get as cozy as possible while watching the words that taunted him getting destroyed. His eye caught some fancy written words before they folded into themselves and burned away.

**_"For my beloved Harry, to spent his days reading."_ **

Harry felt his stomach twist, he didn’t need to read those words. He knew they were lies. The word ‘’beloved’’ shouldn’t have been addressed to him by anyone. Especially someone who couldn’t even begin to understand the meaning of that word. Someone who only saw him as a possession and not as an equal. Or a human being to begin with.

Someone like **him**.

Should never be able to address him like that.

As if by request, Harry felt **his** magic surround him. That silky dark feeling being all over the air, suffocating Harry to the point of tears. The magic was dancing crazily around the room as its creator got closer. Harry could feel the sting on his forehead get worse and worse but he didn’t move his head from his knees. He was used to the pain by now. It had gotten less and less painful by the months he spent there.

“Harry…”

The low hiss of a voice never stopped sending shivers down his spine, no matter how much time passed. When had he even managed to get in? Harry never heard the door open and close. Then again, he could just materialize inside, no need for a door.

The figure walked across the room, coming closer and finally standing next to him. He didn’t need to look up to know that Voldemort was staring at him. Harry tried his best not to imagine the way the dark red orbs looked with the flames of the fire dancing in them. He tried, but failed.

“Harry look at me...” the voice demanded with no real fury in it but full of signs of impatience. The Dark Lord didn’t like to wait.

He did. Merlin when had his spirit become so weak. When had he become so easy to command? When had the Golden Boy of Gryffindor lost his spark for fight and disobedience?

When he looked at him he immediately examined his face. The Dark Lord’s face didn’t show the same emotion that his voice gave away. In fact his face barely gave out any emotion. His thin lips were pushed into a straight line and his face muscles kept a perfect pale poker face. The only alive thing on his appearance was the bright red of his eyes, that couldn’t hide his emotions as well as his trained face could.

He was displeased.

At least Harry could still manage to make him angry.

“May I ask why the books I sent my followers to get specifically for you are now being used as tinder?”  There was no malice in his voice, and if it was, it was well-hidden behind a wave of pure confusion. The Dark Lord kept eye contact as he lowered himself to the chair Harry was previously sitting on, his dark emerald robes with golden details falling gracefully around him.

Harry knew he wasn’t really expecting an answer, he knew Voldemort didn’t really care for the reason why his presents were being mistreated or ignored by Harry, no reason was good enough for him to not punish Harry for being so spoiled but he decided to give one either way.

“The writing style, isn’t my taste. I prefer fantasy books.” he simply said and broke the eye contact, stirring his look on the carpet under his feet, his head returning to laying against his knees.

Neither of them spoke for a while. The only things that could be heard were the fire and Harry’s light breathing. Finally Voldemort broke the silence.

“It isn’t your taste…even though I asked you what kind of books you want and you said anything is fine.”

He sounded almost tired. His voice was low and he spoke as if he hadn’t had enough sleep for the past few days. If Harry didn’t know him any better he would have thought that he really wanted Harry to enjoy his gifts and got hurt when he didn’t. But that couldn’t be possible for a man like him.

“Maybe next time ask me what kind of present I prefer.” Harry said and glanced behind his shoulder at the figure of the Dark Lord who was now staring back at him expecting to hear his suggestions. Weird. He usually ignored him if he didn’t like the gifts. Harry thought to take advantage of that. It couldn’t hurt. Plus they hadn’t fought in ages.

“I want more space.” he started and looked back into the fire. “I’m suffocating every day I have to come in here.” he added, not realizing his voice getting louder “I want to go out, I want to-“

“I can’t allow you to go out and you know that. Don’t ask for things that you know I can’t let happen.” Voldemort said cutting him off, his face had dangerously darkened, a small line forming between his hairless eyebrows.

“Besides, you have no need to go outside. Whatever you need is in these three rooms I provided for you. On the days that you are to be here the only person you are meant to see is me and me only. Also, you are going to see your silly friends tomorrow, you can manage till then.”  He added and raised a hand to massage his temples.

Harry paid closer attention to his captor. Voldemort didn’t only sound tired, he looked tired. His bright eyes looked more blear than other times and his long pale fingers were filled with calluses, Harry guessed, from writing too much. He felt a wave of pity crash into him. He would feel like this sometimes when he eyed the Dark Lord but that was the first time he felt it so strongly. He couldn’t help but slightly care for the man, no matter how cruel he was. Maybe he was developing a severe case of Stockholm Syndrome, even though he could barely be called a captive.

When had he started developing other feelings than hatred and disgust towards Voldemort? He didn't know. His routine was the same since he first got here so nothing should have changed inside him. But something did.

The routine for Harry  was simple. Come to the Malfoy Manor for the weekend and stay in these three rooms all  day, do his homework, eat and then read books from the library, play chess with himself, drink tea or spent time examining ( more accurately, destroying)  the gifts the Dark Lord would oh so generously leave for him.Then Voldemort would appear around the evening and sit in the wooden desk on the other side of the room to continue his paperwork , or join Harry in the chairs close to the fire to read a book ,drink his tea in silence or when he was in a good mood even play with him a game of chess. After he decided that he was done with whatever he was doing and was pleased with the time he spent with Harry he would leave and order Harry to go sleep. At Monday morning Harry would use the locket that was given to him to portkey back into Hogwarts into an empty classroom and run to the dorms before anyone else woke up.

That was their routine for the past months. Minimal to zero interaction with each other. Harry found himself comfortable with that, he didn’t enjoy the time he spent with the Dark Lord but he preferred it from being alone. They wouldn’t talk much but they always managed to fall into a comfortable silence that was much appreciated by Harry’s side, and when they did talk it was cut short and usually about things like the weather and homework.

But things had been quite different this weekend.

On Saturday he didn’t see Voldemort at all, only heard his voice commanding him to sleep. Today he had come later than usual, had demanded a reason for why his gifts were being mistreated and even listened to his tantrum without cursing him.

Maybe the abnormality of the situation was what pushed Harry to get up from the carpet and place himself on the Dark Lords lap. Not that it was the first time they touched each other, but usually Voldemort would be the one to initiate contact. He would ask Harry to join him when he was reading a book and even have Harry read it out loud to him. Harry usually rejected any kind of touch so it was sort of bizarre for him to act like this, so bizarre that even the Dark Lord’s eyes had  widened from the shock, but he couldn’t help it. Harry tried to push himself back and tell him that what he was doing was wrong but he wouldn’t listen. He felt pained being in the same room as the tired Dark Lord. He had to help.

He looked so exhausted. He felt such pity for the man that if his touches would make him better then so be it.

 _"You are a fool Harry Potter, you care for a man who destroyed you and feel pain for a man whose only joy is to spread this pain around."_ said a little voice on the back of his head but Harry ignored it. He had always been a fool. Why would that change now?

He took the long fingers into his hands and brought them close to his mouth, kissing them on every place they look strained and rubbing soothing circles on the calluses. Harry lifted his eyes from Voldemort’s hands to his face, only to find him looking confounded at him, as if he couldn’t believe Harry or this situation was real.

Harry let his hands drop slowly, a slight blush spread across his face. Only Morgana knew what he was thinking. He closed his eyes shut , not wanting to continue seeing the confused expression on Voldemort’s face. He felt a finger trace his jawline, before a pair of cold hands cupped softly his face making him shiver.

“Do you want to go out precious?” his voice was as low as a whisper, if Harry wasn’t so close to him he might have not heard it. He opened his eyes, letting his stare meet with the other's and placed his hand on top of the hands that were cupping his face.

“I do. Take me outside. Somewhere, anywhere away from here.”

The hands left his face and wrapped themselves around his waist, pulling him closer to the other man’s chest. He laid hesitantly his head against him, the silkiness of his robes tickling his cheek. Harry wasn’t sure if he would regret this but right now even Azkaban seemed like a better place to be in.

Then the world started to spin around them. Harry despised the feeling of apparition. He got introduced to it by Dumbledore (“Professor Dumbledore” added Hermione in his mind) when they went to visit Slughorn and he decided to use it as little as possible. He preferred his broom. The awful sensation soon ended and got replaced by the freezing cold and dark of the night around them.

Voldemort placed him down carefully, before summoning a thick cloak and wrapping it around him. Harry was kind of thankful he didn’t throw him down, and that he got him a cloak because he would definitely get a frostbite otherwise, judging from the freezing wind around them.

 Harry looked around but only saw darkness and trees surround them. Where they in the Forbidden forest? Not a very romantic choice for a first date in Harry’s opinion but it was definitely better than the pink hell he visited last year. His glance fell on Voldemort who was walking towards an opening of the woods. He quickly followed behind, not wanting to be left alone in the forest full of creatures that had already tried to kill him more than once and with no wand to protect himself.

They walked for a bit in silence, the only sound accompanying their walk was the rustling of the leaves as the cold wind passed through them, creating an uneasy atmosphere. Harry slowly regretted his decision of asking the Dark Lord this favor. Maybe Azkaban would be a better choice after all. At least there where walls there.

Suddenly Voldemort’s tall figure stopped walking as they were completely out of the forest, Harry tried his best not to fall on him. The Dark Lord lowered the hoodie of his black cloak and raised his bony hand to point towards the direction of what seemed to be a small village full of lighten up houses, music and voices that filled the streets. It was magical to see even from far away. But something felt awfully familiar about this town.

 Harry walked closer to the edge of the hill they were on and kept staring at the houses before deciding to finally speak.

“Is it Hogsmeade?” he asked and could feel a jolt of joy in his stomach as the name came out of his mouth.

“Yes.”  Was the simple answer that came from the Dark Lord.

“But…” Harry turned his gaze towards him, his brows furrowed in a scowl “What if someone sees you? We are too close to the wards, Aurors will get notified immediately if you pass them and-“he kept on rumbling about the possibilities this could go wrong,  not noticing the slight smile that was formed on his ex- nemesis face.

“I never said I’d go anywhere near the village. I can watch it as much as I like from here.”  He said and lifted a hand to stroke Harry’s cheek. “You however…can go entertain yourself for a bit.”

That didn’t sit well with Harry. He sifted on his legs while thinking, his one hand holding the golden locket around his neck. Voldemort wouldn’t be so generous without asking for something in return. And Harry was sure he wouldn’t want to pay the price. It was better to refuse his unusual kindness. Better safe than sorry.

“I don’t really want to. I might bump into someone I’d rather not see right now.” he said and pushed Voldemort’s hand away.

“As suspicious of me as ever I see, pity you didn’t join Slytherin.” the Dark Lord said and a toothy smile appeared on his face.

Harry felt a shot of joy pass his body and he wasn’t sure if it was his or Voldemort’s. He could count the times the Dark Lord had been genuine happy in one hand, mostly about succeeding in a political matter or a battle against the aurors that hunted down his Death Eaters , but now he had no idea why the Dark Lord would feel any joy.

“Anyone in particular you’d rather not see right now?”

The answer ‘you’ felt so tempting to the small wizard but he decided against it. Making Voldemort angry while being outside close to people and with no wand was sure to be a nasty case.

“Not really, I just don’t feel like explaining to whoever asks me why I’m here that the Dark Lord himself took me out on a date.”

_Fuck.Wai-_

“You think of this as a date Harry?” Voldemort’s voice had a glint of giggle in it. He was laughing at him.

Harry looked down at his feet, he could feel his face burning up from anger and embarrassment. That’s not what he meant. No matter how hard Voldemort would try to convince him otherwise. He didn’t want this to be a date. He didn’t want to be there.

“I didn’t mean it like that, it was a joke. As if I’d ever-“

“You know what day is today Harry?” he was rudely cut off by Voldemort.

Harry lost his train of thought as he felt the twist in his stomach re-appearing as it had earlier that afternoon. Of course he knew, Voldemort made sure to remind him through the books and notes he left him. He felt burned by the words that were written for him.

“I know…its Valentine’s day.” he said and the twist in his guts now started to slightly hurt.

“And yet you rejected and trashed my precious gifts. How cruel of you.”  The man in front of him said and placed his hand against Harry’s cheek again, the pointy nail on it, digging into his skin making him lift his head and meet his stare.

 Harry felt the urge to push the other away from him, yell at him that whenever he touched him it burned, but he didn’t. Because that would be a lie. Harry had touched him just a few minutes ago and it hadn’t burned either of them. He stayed unmoving, staring into the breathtaking eyes that were now only focused on him. He couldn’t decide if he loathed or liked that shade of red. Maybe that was his problem.

“Why is that my precious? You always reject my love for you but you also care so deeply for me that you notice even the calluses on my hands. Why is that?”  Voldemort’s voice barely reached Harry’s ears. Each word another stab in his guts, another slap in the face, another sting on his forehead. Another reminder for how weak he actually was.

Why was that? He couldn’t tell himself. It would be so much easier if he could just say that he hated the man more than anything in this fucked up world that he was living in. The man that hurt so many people close to him and kept hurting people. But he couldn’t. He loathed him. He was disgusted by him and the atrocities he had committed. Yet he found himself caring for him, melting in his hands whenever he touched him. Why was it that every time he was at Hogwarts or alone in the Malfoy Manor rooms he would curse the man and express his hatred towards him by tearing apart and destroying his gifts, destroying all the signs of affection the Dark Lord left for him. Each loving word and compliment stinging him and fueling his hatred even more.

But when they came face to face he couldn’t.

When they were together he couldn’t help but let his curious stare eat up the man in front of him. He couldn’t help but feel comfortable with him in the room, feel nice whenever he touched him, when he showed the slightest compassion towards him and his needs. Why did he care if he wasn’t in a good mood or if he was tired?

Why would he bother for someone like him?

The hand that rested on his face started moving up and down, wiping away the tears that Harry wasn’t aware he was even shedding, his other hand wrapping around Harry’s waist bringing them closer together. He leaned into the touch, feeling his feet drag him closer to Voldemort.

_What is wrong with me?_

“There is nothing wrong with you precious. You are simply mine, you have been mine for a long time. It’s normal for you to feel like this. It’s normal to want to be close to the one who owns you.” the low hissing voice of Voldemort reached his ears.

The reassurance from the Dark Lord’s words only made him feel more anxious. He felt trapped by the hands that were tenderly holding him. But he also felt like he was exactly when he was meant to be. The burning and the pain that came from the touch had stopped bothering him long ago that Harry wondered if he just imagined them in the first place. Maybe it was a punishment his magic gave him for enjoying and even craving a monster’s touch.

The only thing bothering him now was the cold wind that was hitting his face and exposed skin, making his body tremble. Voldemort must have taken notice cause he wrapped himself around Harry’s body even tighter, making Harry lay his head on his shoulder.

He felt weak.

“I want to go back to the manor.” he said and almost couldn’t recognize his voice. It sounded like a stranger’s to his ears.

“You could still go join the festivities.”

“I said I want to go back.” Harry could barely make out his voice, it sounded too weak, too strained, too desperate. Nothing like how the Golden Boy’s voice should sound.

Voldemort didn’t make any other efforts to change his mind and without a second thought sent them back to the warmth of the dark living room. Harry couldn’t believe that the room that brought him such distress and boredom on a regular basis would now work as his savior.

He fled from Voldemort’s arms as soon as they reached their destination and threw himself on a chair, wrapping the cloak that was given to him even tighter around his body. He saw Voldemort raise an eyebrow but did not comment on it.

“I guess I should let you rest for today. As always you have to use the portkey that will lead you to an empty classroom close to the Gryffindor dorms.”  He said and with a bored movement pointed at the table “Breakfast will be here at exactly 6am. But you already know that.” he added with a monotonous voice and walked away from the chair Harry was sitting in, wanting to put distance between them.

“If you wish to eat dinner you can call the house elf, I’ll-“

“Stay.” Was all Harry found himself able to mumble.

Voldemort froze on the spot and turned around slowly, a hairless eyebrow raised and a face full of confusion.

“What did yo-“

“I’m asking you to stay and sleep here with me.” Harry said more clearly this time. He didn’t know what it was but he couldn’t handle the thought of sleeping alone after all this. He needed someone, even if that someone was the exact reason he was afraid to be left alone.

A moment passed were neither of them said anything. The minutes felt like hours and Harry could almost taste the regret on his teeth until Voldemort replied.

“I can’t say no to my precious Valentine now can I?” the Dark Lord said and made his way close to Harry. He was in his hands before he could even protest.

“We shall lay together for tonight, If I’m pleased with your behavior today I might rip that little locket from your throat so that you can’t leave.” His hands reached to Harry’s chest, caressing the golden chain around him. Harry felt his breath hitch at the touch.

“Does that sound nice precious?” the Dark Lord’s voice had turned into a hungry growl. Harry dared to turn his head and look at the man that was holding him, only to find the pair of red-blood eyes filled with what he could only understand as lust.

Harry felt like he made a grand mistake just by impulse.

And wasn’t impulse a scary thing.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this at 3 AM while I was having Harrymort feelings. I planned it to be longer but lost that motivation quickly. Hope you liked reading it anyways! Pls leave a comment/ kudo if you did! ( or didn't , let me know so I can become better)  
> I do not own any of the characters or the  
> Harry Potter universe they belong to JK Rowling.  
> no money were made out of this


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